


Something New

by SadieGeez



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Cock Rings, Edging, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Kings Rising, Power Dynamics, Shameless Smut, The kink is all in the second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieGeez/pseuds/SadieGeez
Summary: Laurent wants to try something different. Damen obliges.Scenes of their sex life, post-canon.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

"I would like to try something new."

Damen lifted his face from Laurent's neck to raise his eyebrows. It wasn't that Laurent didn't make requests, well, it was that they usually weren't phrased as _requests_ . Especially when it came to lovemaking. Laurent was good at making his desires known, most often as firm instruction: _Keep your hands still,_ or _Mark me there,_ or, once, _Don't let me move._ To have it phrased in such a delicate manner brought Damen's full attention to bear.

They were in Marlas, nearly a year after Laurent's ascension. They'd stay a week before traveling east along the former border -- the centrelands -- to Acquitart, with many stops along the way. If it was a fruitful trip, they would make it yearly. It was full of potential, both for violence and promise. While the respective capitals largely remained unchanged from the unification, the centrelands were still remote, with a growing population of both Veretians and Akielons. It could become a powderkeg or an anchor. An annual tour by both kings, Laurent explained, created incentive for the latter. It would precede their stay at a mutual court, once the new palace was built, where they could receive the people of both countries.

Damen had been in residence at Marlas for nearly a week; Laurent had arrived two days prior. The first day was spent combing through travel plans and adjusting them to Laurent's liking. The first night, making up for nearly two months' time apart. The second day, receiving the stream of nobles and advisors and kyros that would accompany them or receive instructions in their absence, planning the games for the final day (adjusted to include Veretian sport,) and then a feast. The second night saw them collapsed in cushions in front of a fire past midnight, tipsy and hopeful and calm, with instructions to the servants to leave them be until mid-morning.

It never started in bed, which pleased Damen more than it should. A press of lips on a couch, a quiet caress under a table. It reminded him to draw it out, let kissing or breath linger, until Laurent was languid and clutching him. It was much easier to accomplish tonight, with weeks' worth of desperation dispensed with.

Accomplished already, it seemed. Damen hoisted himself to an elbow to gaze down on Laurent. His feather-fine hair was spread on a pillow, jacket gone, laces undone. Damen's chiton had come off as soon as the door closed behind them. They both enjoyed the build to intimacy this way.

"Oh?" A thumb over Laurent's mouth, full from kissing. He was rewarded with it being captured between teeth, a sharp press before release. "What's your pleasure, then?"

Laurent had the look of when he couldn't find the proper words. For all his filthy mouth for could do, he still struggled to articulate sexual aspects he had little experience with when not in the midst of the act itself. The ache it rose in Damen had been trained into a warm stillness, to be received as the gift of trust it was. Laurent was beautiful and vulnerable, and Damen would never look away.

"It might be best to show you," Laurent pushed Damen's shoulder gently, to get him out of the way as he stood. Damen lay back on the pillows and took in the line of his body. Laurent prodded him with one bare foot. "Get up now."

Damen laughed but took the offered hand to get to his feet. "This is interesting," he murmured, bending to kiss Laurent's mouth.

"Shush," was the response, "I've been thinking."

Damen hummed as he trailed hands down the soft fabric covering Laurent's spine, because when was he not? "Could I convince you to stop?"

Laurent smiled but shook his head. "What if I said this might do the trick?"

That piqued his interest. "By all means, show me."

"I'm trying," exasperated, followed by a shove backward. Damen let him push him into the nearest couch, Laurent's thighs spread wide to straddle him. He took a handful of Damen's hair and said, "If you would let me."

He laughed again, which earned him a brief pinch to one nipple. Breathless in response: "All right. I'm paying attention."

Laurent placed both palms on his shoulders and kissed him, unhurried and deep. Soft cotton and slippery laces kept their hips from a proper grind. Damen's pulse spiked. He had yet to tire of the implication that Laurent could stand and leave him wanting like this, full arousal on display, as Laurent attended to some other task. While it was dizzying, it was also... "Not new," he said into Laurent's mouth.

Another pinch, causing him to jerk. "Damianos," Laurent scolded, "Griva makes you far too free at the mouth."

"I'll stop talking if you stop thinking," he offered.

Laurent sighed and stood, turning away. Heat flooded Damen. He watched as Laurent ignored his own arousal to cross the room, bending to retrieve a bottle of oil from a bedside drawer. They had already used a substantial amount. Damen caught it as it was tossed to him, unsure what he was expected to do. Laurent had no need to ride a horse in the morning. Yet. "Again? Won't you need another cushion for your throne tomorrow?"

Laurent ignored him.

"I was thinking," he said, nudging Damen's knees apart so he was standing between them, "That I like how you watch me."

Oh. Damen swallowed.

Laurent went on, "But sometimes it's too much." Damen knew this; Lauren often hid his face in a pillow or Damen's shoulder when it was. "What could remedy that? We have enough of a history," a small smile, "that perhaps I could experiment."

Damen nodded.

Laurent placed a hand on his own chin, giving Damen a long, considering look, as if he was contemplating if Damen deserved something. He touched Damen on the sternum, two firm fingers making static under his skin.

He couldn't help it. "Laurent..."

"Yes," Laurent said, like he'd been waiting for it, "Like that." He leaned in for a kiss, trailing down Damen's arms to his wrists. He gripped them and Damen felt it everywhere. "Do you remember Mellos?"

"Yes?" he answered, hoping it would gain him another lingering kiss. It did.

Laurent lifted his wrists, placing them apart along the back of the couch as far as his shorter arm span could reach. His body was inches from Damen's but without a single brush of skin. Damen stared up at him, firelight flickering in his light hair, transfixed.

"Don't touch me," Laurent said into Damen's mouth, and stepped back.

Damen felt his cock twitch and become unbelievably harder. He gripped the back of the couch with both hands, a lifeline, he suspected, that was going to be imperative.

Laurent watched it, a pleased glint in his eyes. Still between Damen's knees, he pulled his shirt overhead and dropped it to the floor. Slowly, he ran fingers down his sides until they dipped under the waist of his pants. With a tug, he worked the laces looser, the white fabric of his underclothes framing his hardness under them. A hand slid over to give one long stroke, still concealed, a wet patch appearing near the waistband.

When Damen lifted dizzy eyes to Laurent's face, he found a wicked smile waiting. "Hm," he said, biting his lip against the pleasure of his own hand, then, as if it was an offhand observation, "I like watching you watch me. Fascinating."

Damen closed his eyes and heard himself make a pained noise. His muscles bunched with the force of his grip on the couch.

"No, no, that won't do," Laurent touched Damen's chin, tipping it up, "That defies the whole point of the experiment. Watch me, Damianos."

His helplessness was the point and Damen's whole body shuddered with the realization. Whatever was on his face made Laurent give a small laugh and take pity. He removed his hand from his clothing and pressed fingertips to Damen's mouth, who took them in eagerly. They tasted of him and Damen had to close his eyes again, overwhelmed by the sensation.

Laurent sighed, removing his fingers so they rested on Damen's lips. "Oh love," he murmured, "You ache far too much for me."

"No, I don't," he caught knuckles in his teeth, ran his tongue over them before releasing, "I'm not afraid to give myself entirely over to you."

The tenderness on Laurent's face crowded in Damen's chest until he couldn't breathe. "And I'm learning, aren't I?"

"Laurent," Damen pleaded softly.

Laurent stripped himself of the rest of his clothing and pressed Damen's knees together to slide into his lap. Their cocks brushed and Damen moaned. Laurent's skin near shimmered in the light, and his cock made a perfect curve toward his stomach. Damen still couldn't understand how one man could disassemble him so thoroughly, how it could be like this every time. His shoulders already ached from the strain of holding still and if Laurent touched him now, he was certain a pleasant death would follow.

It could be worse, he supposed.

"Kiss me, please," he asked, and Laurent complied.

He couldn't touch his face and it made everything sharper: the taste of Laurent's tongue, the press of his cock into Damen's stomach, the give of upholstery under his fingers. Laurent shifted back so they were no longer together and Damen lost his breath like a blow. He scooped up the discarded oil from the cushions with the same devilish smile from before. "Let's see about this, shall we?" Laurent said, and laughed at Damen's enthusiastic nod.

Laurent placed a hand in the center of Damen's chest and shifted his weight to his knees. Coating a few fingers with the oil, he reached back to open himself up. Damen heard the moment his fingers slipped inside; Laurent's breath stuttered and his eyelids flickered.

"If I can't touch, can I talk?"

Laurent broke into a grin, then bit his lip and nodded. "Please."

"Are you thinking?" Laurent shook his head, mouth dropping open as he took in Damen's face. Maybe Damen had enough of an advantage here to distract himself from the parameters of Laurent's experiment. "Good. I want you to take your pleasure. I want to see what you do when we're apart." Laurent gasped, like he hadn't realized it was something Damen could want to know. "If you want me to watch, Laurent, believe it, I will watch everything you show me." He pushed forward, hands not leaving their assigned position, but enough to brush his mouth up the graceful column of Laurent's throat. Laurent nodded, leaning in. "Even if I can't touch. Anything you give me, I want. I want you." He kissed where Laurent's pulse was fluttering against his skin. 

Laurent used his free hand to cup Damen's cheek and kiss him until they were both breathless. Damen allowed himself a slight smug smile that he was able to regain some ground.

Unfortunately, Laurent saw it. "Shush, you," he covered Damen's mouth with his palm, "I should have never let you speak." As Damen gave a muffled laugh, he shifted forward once more and gripped Damen steady. "This," he said, "is what I was thinking about the most."

With that, he sank himself onto Damen, rough dense heat that made them both cry out. Laurent gripped Damen's shoulders, gasping, eyes tight. It was less preparation time than he usually required; Damen had felt the force Laurent's hips had used to achieve it. "Are you --" He couldn't articulate it, "Didn't that --"

"I liked it," Laurent threw his head back, eyes locked on Damen's through long lashes, "Oh, I like that." He shifted cautiously, experimentally, and Damen felt a seam give way under his nails. "You're quite a lot, my love."

" _Laurent,_ " Damen gritted out, every muscle he had quivering to stay still, "I can't believe you."

"Please, Damen," Laurent rolled his hips again, "Surely you're used to it by now."

Damen threw his head into the couch and groaned loud enough it bounced off the vaulted ceiling. He was infuriated and so hard it bordered on painful.

Laurent laughed, but cut off as his face pinched. He shifted slightly and sucked in a sharp breath. "That's enough of that, I think." Damen felt a growl roll up through his lungs. "Shush," Laurent chided as he lifted off, reaching for the oil again, "Patience will be rewarded."

A pleasant death, Damen thought, must be a great relief from an insufferable lover, not that Laurent would allow that to happen. Laurent took him in hand with a generous amount of oil and clucked his tongue when Damen's whole body twitched into the grip. "Remember yourself," Laurent lifted Damen's chin, took his bottom lip in his teeth, "for just a little while longer, trust me."

"I don't." It came out as a growl. But then Laurent mounted again, the slide slicker, faster. The muscles of his thighs tightened on the outside of Damen's and he remembered just how talented of a rider Laurent was. He swore at Laurent, and at himself for allowing this. Laurent made a pleased _hm_ noise, like it was what he was seeking, and began to move.

Damen followed the dangerous instinct to thrust, just once. It rocked the couch off the floor and jarred them together when it returned. "Better not do that again," Laurent said, breathless with exertion. The cushions creaked from his motion. Damen felt something internal give way, and he turned his face into Laurent's hand gripped on his shoulder and pleaded in Akielon for mercy. His teeth followed, needing a grip on flesh somehow, somewhere. Laurent pushed fingers into his mouth again and Damen took them gladly, dignity lost.

Then he looked into Laurent's soft, heated eyes, and remembered he was here to watch.

Carefully, slowly, he brought his hand along the couch and circled his thumb and forefinger around Laurent's wrist. Laurent's brow furrowed but he was caught in his rhythm, letting Damen withdraw his fingers from his tongue. He brought them to Laurent's chest, pressing wet tips to a peaked nipple, and said, "Touch yourself, let me watch you," Laurent's eyes fluttering closed as Damen returned his hand to the couch. He watched hungrily as Laurent did so, circling at first before pulling tight on it, crying out. Damen took his wrist again, rewetting those long fingers, licking the palm, and brought it down between them, where Laurent was rocking into Damen's stomach. "Let me watch, Laurent, please."

They locked eyes, gaze hotter than the fire still burning, and a few thrusts later Laurent gave a soft keen and Damen watched as he came between them, spilling onto his own hand and Damen's heaving stomach, the shudder around him so strong that Damen choked on his breath. He held on as Laurent came down, rhythm lost. When he looked into Damen's face, he lit up at what he saw there. Sliding off, he grasped Damen in one warm, slick hand and pulled his arm from the couch with the other. "Your turn," he said, amused, then laughed as Damen swept arms around his waist and flipped Laurent's back to the couch cushions.

Damen thrust desperately into Laurent's giving hands, moans muffled by the cushions and Laurent's hair. Then Laurent mumbled, "oh, I like you like this, Damianos," in that playful, pleased tone that Damen found absolutely maddening, but then it was bursting through him, from him, until Laurent's grip was too much and he slumped against him, overwhelmed. He caught Laurent's mouth in a messy, thorough kiss, letting him know exactly how that experience felt.

Finally, Laurent squirmed under him, and Damen sat back. He had a pleasantly dazed look about him, freshly fucked and high from it, until he lifted his hands and frowned. The look he gave Damen then made him burst out laughing.

"Stay still," he said with a soft kiss, "Let me tend you."

He gave himself a cursory wipe at the washstand before returning to Laurent. After he was satisfactorily clean, Laurent pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and sighed, "I might require some help standing. If I can stand at all, that is."

Damen chuckled and swept him up off the couch without preamble. Laurent was alarmed for a brief second until he rested his head against Damen's shoulder. "Oh, this is nice." He gave Damen's bicep a brief squeeze. "I like these, have I mentioned? Please never lose them," which made Damen laugh as he laid Laurent on the bed and stretched out beside him.

"I think you need sleep," he told him, but Laurent only hummed quietly in response. He ran a hand down Damen's chest and returned the grin Damen gave him.

"I like this, too," he mumbled, and Damen raised his eyebrows. "Your hair, here, it's soft," he pet Damen again, "and this," as he pulled in closer, tucked his face into Damen's neck, "smells nice, despite the sweat." Damen held back another laugh. "The whole night was a success, do you agree?" He frowned into Damen's shoulder. "Not quite like a horse."

Damen buried his face in Laurent's hair and groaned. "Please never make that comparison again." But then he smiled. "Enjoyable, though."

Laurent snorted. "I think we found the next month's entertainment."

"If I could request an addition..."

Laurent lifted his head at that. "Oh?"

Damen brushed a light finger over one of Laurent's nipples, making his breath catch. "Remember those clamps you put me in? You might like those, too."

Laurent's snort was completely undignified this time. "And where shall I get them here in Marlas? Ask if Vannes has a spare set?"

"Wait," Damen said, horrified, "I don't think --"

Laurent cut him off with a kiss. "Taken into consideration. I won't share where I procure them from."

"Thank you." Damen smiled into his hair. He brushed a hand down Laurent's side, giving the curve down to his thigh a firm squeeze. Laurent jerked then hit him in the chest. "Another cushion tomorrow, then?"

"Shut up," Laurent grumbled, "Go to sleep before I decide to smother you with a pillow." Damen settled, pulling him to his chest with a laugh. Reluctantly, Laurent said, "We'll see in the morning."

Damen managed to swallow the laugh this time. Laurent quickly grew heavy against him, and then, mercifully, sleep took them both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I wrote another scene. Standalone from the first.

"I have a terrible idea."

Not terrible in the sense that it was a foolish idea, or a rash one. Terrible in that Laurent knew Damen would protest heartily on hearing it, but be rather taken, in the end. Besides, Laurent didn't have truly terrible ideas. He made the occasional mistake, perhaps, when caught off guard by his own temper, but they were never ideas first. That passion, he'd learned to cultivate, to harness for appropriate circumstances. Such as now, alone in the King's baths with Damen.

Predictably, Damen raised his eyebrows instead of giving a true reply.

Laurent smiled back.

It made Damen laugh. "I know that smile," he said, lifting Laurent's feet into his naked lap. Laurent had sat sideways on the marble seat to face him, one knee curled under until Damen took his ankles in hand. "You're about to take advantage of my good nature."

"Darling, the entire Patran delegation has had your good nature in thrall for a week," Laurent reminded him, "I think it's more than fair I have my turn."

Damen's laugh rang out this time, echoing off the stone walls. More than anything, what Laurent held close was how ready his laughter was. As a king, Damen was commanding, choosing to be stern or charitable as needed in their court. For their subjects -- the young who darted away from their parents to touch his cape, the fresh soldiers shaking with awe, the servants whose families had been in royal service for generations -- he took care to be welcoming and easy to smile. Among his closest, came the laugh. It burst loud over conversations and encouraged others to join. It was no miracle that Damianos inspired the loyalty that he did, Laurent himself included. Laurent found that laugh to be a marvel, after everything.

"Prince Torveld finds Akielon sport entertaining and the citizens hardly need a reason. It's diplomacy."

"Oh? And what have I been doing? The easy work?"

Damen's smile sobered immediately. "Shall I step in?"

They'd preemptively decided their roles for the state visit. Laurent would lead negotiations and Damen, as host for Ios, would ensure goodwill held steady. Border patrol agreements, official values for exchange of goods, political reassurances -- Laurent could guarantee those as easy as wrapping a chiton. The true challenge lay close and personal. Patras refused to outlaw slavery simply because Akielos had, Torveld insisted, as though that was what they were seeking. They would gladly assist those trafficked back home across borders and execute any Patran citizens involved in the crime. If Akielos could provide a way to tell the difference between an Akielon-born slave acquired willingly and one coerced. Some Akielons, released from their bonds, sought out Patran households instead of entering into contracts. Not most, not a quarter, even, but enough to make it a sticking point. The debate became, then, the manner of proof. The morning's discussion ended badly. One of Torveld's nobles casually suggested something so vile that Laurent felt ice in his veins.

"You'll have Akielon citizens in Akielon training gardens brand themselves like horses for the privilege of crossing a border to suck a Patran noble's cock? Shall we ask Erasmus his opinion?" Laurent spat, pushed to the brink of his patience, before Damen signaled him to exit the room. Behind him, he heard Damen's voice lowered to a threat as he slammed a hand on the table: " _ Absolutely not. _ Further harm to my people is an act of aggression, not a solution for Patran guilt."

Laurent had raged in private. The stalemate remained, despite Torveld's profuse apology and the noble's expulsion from the negotiations. And Akielos, per Damen.

Laurent sighed, sinking lower into the water. Damen circled the knob of his ankle with a firm thumb, reassuring. "No. We've a delicate balance with Torveld and as much as I hate to admit sports is diplomacy, it's working too well to pull your attention elsewhere. I'll simply continue disappearing every afternoon to salvage my mood enough to not ruin the evening."

Damen tugged the ankles in his hands, drawing Laurent fully into his lap. Despite that it turned his stomach as much as Laurent's, Damen circled arms around his waist and said, "Say the word and I will."

A nod, and they sat in the quiet splash of the bath and distant sounds of a busy palace. Damen took Laurent's right hand with his left, holding their shiny cuffs above the water. Damen's humiliation at the hands of the Regent of Vere had transformed into a rallying cry for the common Akielon under their joint Kingship -- the higher born couldn't maintain resistance when Damianos enacted the ban on slavery. It was possibly the hardest won victory of the alliance, but it was won. Patras was terrified of their people following suit.

Damen kissed his cheekbone, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Tell me this terrible idea."

"Oh, yes, that," said Laurent, the familiar internal burn returning. "It most definitely takes advantage of your good nature. Rather depends on being able to."

A grin. "And what is required of me?"

Laurent rose off Damen's lap, bracing himself on the rim behind his shoulders. He brought their mouths together for a lingering kiss, Damen's fingers stroking slow shivers down Laurent's sides. "When we leave this bath, I will get dressed," he pet both hands down Damen's broad chest, watching his face, "And you will not."

Damen's expression was a reward unto itself. Laurent was certain he'd never tire of it.

It was his turn to laugh. "Like that, do you?" He kissed Damen again before pulling away. "That's just the start."

That led to Damen on the bed, naked and on his side, propped up an elbow, watching as Laurent finished lacing his cuffs. He'd taken to wearing shirts in the Veretian style, made from the light, white cotton used for chitons, to protect his skin without becoming unbearably warm in Akielos's heat. Damen simply darkened, skin remaining smooth and unburnt. Laurent let his gaze travel over him. He was a contrast against the white sheets; the afternoon sunlight drew out the bronzed highlights of his curls, and he had lighter lines around his ankles and the tops of his feet from sandal ties. Just from watching Laurent get dressed, he was half-roused.

Laurent suppressed a smile. He had yet to tire of how remarkably  _ easy _ Damen was to pleasure. He picked up his vest and snapped it in the air to straighten it before slipping it on, then turned to Damen. "How do I look?"

Damen sat up. "A little wantonly Veretian for public viewing," he crooked a finger. Laurent stood between his knees and let him draw up the front lacing, deft and quick. He tied a neat knot and tucked the ends under the collar. "That's more presentable."

Laurent smiled as Damen rested his face against the laces, arms going around his waist. Laurent ran fingers through the hair at his nape, pressed down his bare spine and back up. He could feel the way Damen made himself relax under it, waiting. Slowly, they came to kissing, until Laurent was kneeling on the edge of the mattress. Damen was on his back, thighs spread, powerful body and erect cock on display, both of them heated from it.

"Who's wanton now," Laurent murmured as he ran his hands down Damen's stomach, admiring. "As Akielons are."

Damen huffed a laugh that was cut off when Laurent's fingertips wandered lower. Skirting Damen's arousal, Laurent gently raked nails through the surrounding curls and pressed the pad of a thumb against the base, feeling the sensitive skin there tighten. Damen let his head fall back and made a sound of disgruntled pleasure. It sent sparks through Laurent's lungs and solidified his plan.

He turned away to the chest near the head of the bed. Back up on his elbows to watch, Damen's eyes went dark when it registered what Laurent retrieved. It was a softened leather strap that laced closed, like a utilitarian bracelet. Except it was not made to go around a man's wrist.

"Hardly necessary," said Damen.

"Yes, everyone in two kingdoms knows of your virility. Indulge me."

"Don't I always?" But he took himself in hand, holding the requisite anatomy in place as Laurent secured it. They'd only used it once before, having discovered rather quickly that it was, indeed, hardly necessary. Perhaps it could find new purpose.

Damen said, "Is this what requires my good nature?"

Laurent felt a smile spread. It was not a kind one, before he neutralized it. Damen saw.

He said, "You're angry."

"Yes."

Carefully: "With me?"

"No." It was true, and Damen saw that, too. His anger was diffuse, undirectable, built from too many days in a row speaking of things he found too close. Shame flooded him, and he stepped back from the bed. It was one thing to feel it, and another to bring it into their bed and expect Damen to shoulder yet another burden for him.

"I --"

His wrist was swiftly caught between broad, warm hands before he could retreat another step. Just as swiftly, the grip was loosened enough to break. Damen gazed at him with steady brown eyes as he lifted the hand he held to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to the heel. "Tell me how I can help." Laurent shook his head, and Damen amended, "Tell me your plans for me."

Then he leaned back, on display again, an offering. Laurent counted breaths until the shame died down enough to think. He didn't need to obscure his desires; Damen had well made that known.

Once he gathered himself, he placed both palms on Damen's thighs and leaned down, not enough to kiss, not enough to brush his cock, but close. "I'm going to bring you to the edge," Damen nodded, "and leave you there."

Damen swallowed, but not in dislike. "Without...?"

"Without."

Damen looked at the leather strap in a new light. "That's a new challenge."

Laurent was surprised into a laugh. "A challenge?"

"Yes," said Damen, "You want to be cruel, and I want to be right, but it's never been about my cock before."

"Damen," Laurent choked through laughter, "You're impossible."

A grin and he was gently tugged against Damen's chest for a thorough kiss. The hard curve of Damen against his stomach was a firm reminder of his interest.

Breathing easier, Laurent asked, "And what do you expect me to be wrong about?"

Hands found their way to the point of his hips, kneaded the muscle beyond them. "Two? Or three times?"

"Three." Laurent's smile curved again, anticipatory. "You'll plead by the third."

Damen gave an astonishingly erotic half-growl, half-laugh. "What's the wager?"

What could be wagered between kings, in private?

"The clamps," declared Laurent, "On three occasions."

The disgruntled huff again, but the tone was teasing. "You find my discomfort far too pleasurable."

"That is rather the point, my love."

At that, Damen rolled him to the mattress, his considerable size blanketing Laurent. He felt the catch of the leather between them. "And for my prize?"

Laurent took a fistful of curly hair and used it to direct Damen's mouth to his neck. "I'll hear suggestions."

A smile between soft kisses to his skin. "You wear the clamps on a morning ride."

Laurent paused. If Damen was with him, he would tease Laurent to the edge of madness; if Damen wasn't present, Laurent would return in as discomposed a state as he ever let show. Either way, the inevitable tumble would be a little wild and desperate, exactly to Damen's liking.

The smile against his neck turned into a grin. Laurent said, "I am going to win, if only to use that premise at my leisure."

Damen let Laurent roll them again and sprawled out across the sheets invitingly.

The first time, Laurent applied every trick and advantage nearly three years of exploring Damen had given him. Damen weathered it well, even as Laurent held him on the brink with a thumb where the ridge of his cock head curved up, forefinger brushing relentless over the soft skin on the other side. Laurent knew all he would have to do was use both hands to squeeze from base to tip and Damen would be arching and lost. Instead, when he felt the wave of tension under his fingers, he loosened his grip and laid his hands on the muscles of Damen's thighs.

Damen arched anyway, not lost in climax but as if chasing Laurent's warm, oiled palms. He shuddered and snatched a pillow from the bed, pressing it to his face as he gave a loud, exasperated groan followed by a string of curses with Laurent's name tangled somewhere in the middle.

When Laurent had judged his breath sufficiently caught, he started again. With one fingertip trailed from where the leather sat snug to the slit in the tip, he moved slower, firmer. He couldn't let Damen lose himself as quickly this time. It required him to keep his touch on the edge of what Damen enjoyed most. Once Damen was panting, eyes closed and squirming to stay still, Laurent lowered his head and licked over the slit, curled his tongue around the ridge, pressed the tip of his tongue against the spot his thumb had been before. It was a rare occurrence to use his mouth, and nothing Damen ever asked for. It caused the reaction he wanted. A shocked gasp left Damen's chest; a shudder went through his hips as he fought not to thrust. It was gratifying, all that power held in check at Laurent's whim. It almost made him feel guilty for what he did next.

Breathing out to help relax, he swallowed Damen down, hands pressed to hipbones to keep them still. Laurent saw Damen's fists tighten into silk hard enough that he knew he'd be hearing another round of servants' complaints about constantly mending sheets. As he lifted away, he tasted Damen's need and heard a choked  _ "Laurent," _ spill from his mouth. He was close again. A few passes of his tongue and a tight grip around the shaft, and the panting sharpened, almost a deep keen. Laurent felt the pulse of it and stopped again. The shudder that went through Damen was so rough it would have shifted a bed not made of marble. The head of his cock shone from saliva and come, twitching against empty air and dripping into the brush of hair that led to his hips. Laurent watched it all, pleased.

Damen glared with an unrivaled heat, but didn't plead. Well, that needed to change.

"Three times," said Laurent.

Damen nodded, took a deep breath, and stretched his arms above his head to grip the edge of the mattress. Laurent let a wicked grin take over his mouth before he dipped his head and did it all again. And again, and again.

The third time, Damen pleaded.

Laurent was using the tip of his tongue very precisely when it finally escaped. It was strident, in Akielon, with the tone of a command, everything the words themselves were not:  _ Laurent, let me. Let me now. _ And then:  _ Please. _

He made a pleased, assenting noise, and that was how very little it took for Damen. With a deep groan, Damen was over the edge, the first spill of salt and warmth against Laurent's tongue. He took his mouth away to watch with deep satisfaction. The mattress came off the marble frame; Damen's stomach clenched beautifully as he finished, broad chest rising and falling hard, Laurent stroking him through.

When Damen relaxed, it was with his whole body, an immovable weight of a man. He pulled Laurent to him; the kiss was deep but languid. Laurent loosened the tie of the leather strap and flung it from the bed. Against Laurent's mouth, Damen said, "You won. Satisfied?"

Laurent hummed, letting another kiss show his gratification. It was when Damen stroked a soft hand down his hip that Laurent realized his own need. It thrummed deep in his stomach, unignorable now. He heard himself make a soft noise into Damen's mouth. Lips and teeth crept down his jaw to his neck, causing him to clutch Damen by the shoulders to roll their bodies together, heedless of his fresh clothing. Laurent knew how powerful it was when he didn't care if Damen wiped down first. He gasped out another sound.

Damen rolled on top of him, fingers finding their way under cotton to stroke Laurent's sides. His eyes were sex-hazed but searching. Laurent reached for the laces of his vest, the ridiculousness of Damen having just tied them a distant thought. "Damen, I --"

"Let me finish satisfying you," said Damen, hands and voice gentle. Laurent closed his eyes and let it wash over him. "Allow me."

It was too much. He buried his face, overwhelmed and loathing it. He didn't know what he would do to himself if he hurt this man, yet, it was inevitable. The world was often cruel and unfair; so was he. His guard existed to protect others as much as himself. Damen within it was still a tension unlike any of the others he was used to grappling with. He feared it was something that was etched too deep, that would never leave him. He could only hope it was a little less, every time.

"Fuck me," said Laurent. "Damen, I need --"

"Yes," said Damen. "Yes."

Laurent's clothing was once again discarded, Damen's hands smooth and sweet on his skin. Laurent could breathe only with their faces close, only with Damen's knowing, intimate eyes holding his. He felt subsumed to his own desire. Control slipped. When Damen's fingers found him and started their slow, careful slide inside, it shattered.

Laurent knew he was arching, gasping Damen's name, making his own pleas without the exact words. His anger from before was swept under by a crest of need, to have Damen close inside him, to have their bodies safe in each other, to have physical, carnal proof of their mutual vulnerability. Damen's sweetness was palpable on his tongue and in the gentle stroke of preparation. He needed, he needed --

Damen was hard once again, pressing into his thigh. Laurent gasped from relief. Damen must have felt the same dizziness of want. Into Laurent's neck he said, "I need to be inside you," and Laurent felt it gust through his senses, overtaking each one.

"Yes," he panted, and an efficient minute later, Damen was entering him with a quiet groan.

It was nearly too soft, too sweet to take. Laurent felt his mind spiral as Damen nudged deep. Fingernails dug into Damen's shoulders, holding tight so the slight movement of hips was all that could be accomplished. The distinct throb of climax began to gather. He gasped again, "Damen."

Against his earlobe, lips moved: "Let go. I want to feel it, let go."

Laurent did. He held his eyes shut and let his limbs shudder under Damen's familiar thrusts until he came apart at the seams, crying out from the culmination of it, liquid and hot and unguarded and  _ safe _ . He sensed the same in Damen, the losing of himself that preceded release, and Laurent basked in the heavy thrusts and the flex of Damen's muscle, letting it draw out his own aftershocks of pleasure until Damen was going slack against him, both of them satiated and exhausted.

As Damen shifted his weight away, Laurent started to come back to himself. He was spent in a way he wasn't sure he'd felt before, a calm, contented blank slate of a feeling. He turned his head to look at Damen. He was on his side, pressed against Laurent, leaned on an elbow. Laurent took his free hand and laid it on his chest, his pounding heartbeat and not-quite-caught lungs belaying everything underneath.

Damen, all mussed curls and dimpled smile, was breathtaking. Laurent knew that, of course, but it seemed wonderous in the moment. He put a hand to Damen's cheek and he turned into it, eyes closed, and Laurent lost his breath. Damen pressed his lips to his thumb and, without opening his eyes, said, "I don't suppose we have time to nap before I need to host the next round of games?"

Laurent frowned, then burst into laughter. "Wrestling's today." Damen let out a weary sigh and nodded. "Should I command Pallas to throw a match for his king, like a bone to a dog?"

Now Damen frowned, disapproving. "He won't need to."

Laurent nodded, feigning consideration. "Of course. Fucking and wrestling aren't too different, after all."

"Laurent," said Damen, face in his hair, "Stop."

"I'm sure Pallas is also practicing, with Lazar."

"Stop," but on a laugh. "I need to clean myself and meet with Torveld. I'm sure my good mood will be suspect enough." He trailed kisses down Laurent's cheekbone, to his jaw, to his ear. "I'll crow about my victory to you at dinner." He made to rise.

Laurent caught Damen's wrist before he could get far. He cast his mind over the morning, the roil of anger at the Patrans, gone now, and the prospect of an empty afternoon. "Wait. Torveld can suspect both our moods. I'll come with."

Damen raised his eyebrows, but was smiling. He stood, holding out a hand. "I'm sure he'll be glad of your company," he said, "As I will be."

Laurent smiled, and took the offered hand, and let himself be lifted to his feet.

Later, when the Patras delegation had left, Laurent gave Damen a small box lined in velvet. When Damen looked askance at him, he said, "A gift for acts of service. It ended with success, after all."

Damen kept a wary eye on Laurent as he lifted the lid and glanced inside. His eyes widened, and then he burst into somewhat embarrassed laughter. "Laurent, what --"

"Leather is hardly suitable for kings."

Inside was an ornate ring of silver, two lion's heads carved into the ends where they almost met. Laurent had had it commissioned, discreetly, of course.

Laurent said with a smile, "It'll match the clamps quite fetchingly, don't you agree?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for the gift at the end: [NSFW obviously](https://www.esculpta.com/p/27/le-cock-ring-i-classic-fixed-size.html)


End file.
